The Path Between the Stars
by PonderingTheUniverse17
Summary: After a rough night of marking papers, the Doctor gives Clara an unexpected gift leaving them both ready to explore the next stage of their relationship.


The Path Between the Stars

by

Taylor Bookout

The pen in his hand skidded across the top of the paper - her short, sharp sigh had startled him from his concentration (and left quite a mark on the paper in the process). He drew his eyes up from it to his companion. Or what he thought, appeared to be a tiny human being driven to her wit's end. Her eyes closed as she slowly rubbed the joints of her fingers. He pressed his lips into a thin line, setting the work down on the table to shift closer to her. There was no response from her as he pressed his hands into the plush sofa, even as her leg bumped against his. She merely glanced his direction when he took her hand into his. As if out of habit, his thumb stroked the back of her hand. He parted his lips to let out a breath as she gave his hand a faint squeeze.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Just tired," she said. "I think I may fall asleep right here if I have to mark another paper."

"Well, it is nearly one o'clock…"

"You're kidding?" she asked, sinking into the sofa. She brought her hands up to her face, her eyes peeking through the spaces between her fingers. "Please tell me you've read that wrong."

"Clara Oswald, are you suggesting I'm a daft-"

She placed her finger on his lips to stop him from going any further. Knowing him, he would go Scottish and bleat. The last thing she needed was the neighbors complaining about an angry Scotsman yet again. "I'm not 'suggesting' anything," she said. "At least, not right now. I'm just a bit… grouchy."

"We only have a few more to do," he said. "Besides, this is one of the easiest assignments you've given them this month."

"Of course, you think writing Shakespeare in iambic pentameter is a walk in the park," she remarked. "Besides, it's not like I haven't been enjoying these-"

"You wouldn't be up as late as you are now if that wasn't the case," he interjected.

"You seem to be enjoying them much more than me," she finished.

"Anything is better than attempting to sit through _Les Mis_," he said.

"Don't make me throw this pillow at you," she threatened with a snicker.

"Just a few more," he said. "Or I can finish them in the morning for you?"

"Really?" she said.

"Really," he said.

"No ulterior motives, then?" she asked.

"And what would those be?" he asked in return.

"To show off, to make the students like you more than me, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera," she said, counting off each reason with her fingers.

"Hm," He began tapping his chin as he looked up to the ceiling. "Possibly. Or I may just want to be of some assistance to my companion who just so happens to a teacher that needs her marking done by the morning." She silently cursed herself for him being right.

"Humph," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"So, Miss Grouchwald," he said. "Do you accept my offer?" There was a glint in his eyes and a smirk she knew all too well upon his lips. She squinted her eyes at him, mentally taking note to pay him back later.

"If it means never calling me that again," she replied, with a raised eyebrow, "then yes." Not a minute sooner, a yawn escape her mouth. There was a tingling sensation in her legs as she stood up that she both appreciated and loathed in the moment. She closed her eyes, taking in the alertness she had missed before.

It felt nice, regaining the feelings of her legs after hours of sitting. She let out a slight squeak as she felt herself being put down on the bed. She swore she heard a quiet "sorry" from him, but felt very unsure of what was going on around her due to her near disoriented state.

"Are all humans really made of stardust?" she asked.

_Oh, my curious Clara. _He thought. She had pushed herself up despite her body calling for sleep. _Never giving up. Never giving in. _"Everything in the universe is, Clara," he replied. "Not just you, me, and those lilies in the window."

"So, every living thing then?"

"Every non-living thing too."

"Could me and the clothes on my back be made out of the same dust?"

"Anything and everything."

"Can you tell which stars?"

"Can I? Of course I can with my-"

"Superior Time Lord biology?"

"I could teach you, you know."

"Ah, so it isn't because of remarkable sense of smell."

"It's my remarkable ability of taste actually," he said. She couldn't hold back her amusement, her laughter taking up what energy she had left in her. He rolled his eyes, not as amused as she was about the revelation. "I'm failing to see what is so hilarious about this, Clara."

"Well," she started, her laughter finally dying down. "I mean, there is a high probability that you've licked a number of things just to figure out which star they came from."

"And that's funny because?" he sounded genuinely confused. _Oh, her daffy Doctor._ Perhaps it wasn't funny, as she thought about. She shuddered a bit at the thought of what could've possibly come into contact with her mouth within the past twenty-four hours.

"You have a point," she admitted. "Just be sure to wash your tongue before kissing me again."

"Duly noted," he said. "It's not solely licking though. Just a simple touch of the lips or inhale of air can easily do the trick."

"Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Which stars am I made of?"

"Let's see," he said. He gently brushed her hair from the back of her neck, placing his lips on her bare skin. "Vega," he said. Rather than sending a chill down her spine, a wave of serenity took hold of her body. His breath grazed against her skin as he reached her collarbone. She slowly began sinking into the bed. "Antares," his lips swept across her forehead. "Capella," then to her left cheek. "Veritate," next her right. "Tureis," then to the tip of her nose. "Rotanev," she blinked heavily as he reached the edge of her chin. As things started to blur, his lips finally reached hers, touching softly. "and Chara."

Her vision faded into a peaceful darkness.

A low, but fluctuating hum filled her ears as she slowly opened her eyes. "Good morning to you too," she said, rolling over to the vacant side of the bed to see the TARDIS still parked beside the bedroom door. A pool of warmth spread from the pit of her stomach to her fingers and toes. It was impossible to not smile. _Smiling on a Monday morning? _She caught herself wondering. _Maybe I ought to convince him to do this trick more often…_

She pulled herself up from the tangled covers, stretching out her limbs. For once it seemed like she wasn't going to mind being up on her feet all day. Perhaps there was such a thing as a_ too_ lazy Sunday. Nothing could really beat the rush in one's veins when it came to running from danger. Lounging around just wasn't the same. Despite not needing coffee, surprisingly after the long night, she went off to do her morning coffee routine anyways. She was met with the Doctor grinning ear to ear in the living room. He had his hands behind his back, his arms unable to stay still. He hoped that she wouldn't be able to detect the knots forming in his stomach. They tightened with each passing second. "What are you up to?" she asked.

"Nothing," he lied.

_Really? _She thought. "Not with that look, you aren't."

"What look?" he replied.

"Spill," she said.

"I just have something for you," he said. "To give to you."

"Then may I see it?"

"Close your eyes first," he said. "Put your hand out and open it." She did as she was told, biting her lip to repress the gleam. That's when she felt something cold and metal-like land in the palm of her hand. He proceeded to close her hand and bring it to his lips. "Open your eyes now, Clara." He released her hand as she did, letting her reopen it. It only took a moment for her recognize the object in her hand. A key to the TARDIS. The silver had a shimmer to it, almost like the glow of a regeneration. Its ridges were as sharp and defined and its curves as she moved it around in her hand to examine it. Her vision began to blur when she set her eyes on an engraved name on the other side of it.

"_CLARA" _

He moved closer to her, his hearts pounding frantically inside his chest. Her eyes were wider and wetter than usual. Or at least, unlike usual to him. They weren't hard or sharp looking down at his gift. Nor were her lips curled up into a smile or drawn down like a frown. It wasn't_ that_ malfunctioning look like on the Orient Express. He really needed to brush up on his studying of her expressions.

"I-" she said, finally finding her voice. "I, um, I don't understand."

"Understand what?" he said.  
"Why?" she asked. Her voice broke and she hadn't meant for it too. Those times, those actions, the lack of regret were unravelling again.

"Why?" he asked the question back at her. _How could she still not get it after all this time? Had it not been clear enough about it before?_

"You trust me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"What happened, back with the keys, the volcano…" Her voice wavered, turning into a whisper.

"Was forgiven a long time ago. Do you need me to repeat it for you to get you to understand?"

"I'm sorry, it's just. This is a lot to take in."

"I thought you'd expect this. That you understood long before Christmas day."

"That you trust me with the keys to your home?"

"More than that. I trust you with my life. The beginning, the middle, the end."

"There will be no end with you, Doctor. Not while I'm around."

"You really think so?"  
"I know. I know because the universe is going to have to kill me before it even thinks about ripping you away from me again."

"Clara, not now. Let's not... dwell on it in this moment."

"You're right, quite right. But I do I have to know, if you're ready for this. To give in."

"Of course I am."

"To _really_ give in?"

"Yes Clara, this is me _truly_ giving in. Simple as that."

She didn't mean to be as rough as she was pulling him down, wrapping her arms around his neck to bury her face in it. He didn't flinch or protest in return. Instead he stroked the top of her head, letting their hearts beat against one another as she was pressed tightly against him. "Thank you," she whispered, meaning it more than ever before. "For this."

"Let me help you put it on," he said as they unwrapped themselves from each other's embrace. Like the night before, he brushed her hair to the side, lightly caressing her neck. She instinctively put her hand over it as settled on her chest. Right on top of her heart. The corners of his mouth slid upwards, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Perfect."

The door unlocked with a click, sounding like music to her ears. Or at least, abruptly stopping the music that reached her ears. He was across the console with the guitar in his hands, slung across his shoulders. She shook her head, not expecting anything less from her mid-life crisis Time Lord. Not that she didn't mind the guitar, the shades, the overall Bowie-like rockstar vibe he was giving off. Surely, he knew the effects it was having on her.

"Hello!" she said.

"Good afternoon, Miss…" he started, doing that thing again with his chin. The lack of chin didn't seem to stop him from doing it. "Grumpwald? Oh wait, Grouchwald!"

"Ha ha," she remarked, rolling her eyes. "Very funny."

"How did the day go?"

"Well," she began, meeting him halfway at the console. "I narrowly avoided some moon jokes thanks to someone finishing up the markings this morning."  
"You're welcome," he said, not even attempting to hide the hint of smugness in his voice. She gave him a slight glare before continuing.

"The kids miss you, you know. You really are a good help to them."

"It's nothing when you're the ones whose teaching them."

"I'm not the one with a time machine and an infinite amount of knowledge..."

"This place is as much yours as it is mine. Especially when you have enough knowledge to fly it without my assistance."

"You really see it like that?"

"Anyone with eyes can and contrary to your belief, I don't know everything. I have a quite an amazing teacher after all…"

She tapped her fingers on the console. "So, where to?"

"Wherever and whenever you want," he said. He led them to one of the screens, which was filled with oddly shaped letters and numbers. With one punch of a button, a map she was becoming familiar with popped up.

"Somewhere wonderful. Somewhere unknown."

"There's not much unknown above this universe, below it however..." he stopped himself as he felt her arms wrap around him, her chin nuzzling into his shoulder. A breath he wasn't aware he had been holding left his lips. This was new._ A new sensation? No pain? No discomfort? _He mused. It felt quite the opposite, the warmth of her tiny frame snug against his. Her thumbs rubbed his arm, as if she wasn't aware she was doing it. He brought his hand up to her own arm to rest it there. _This is a new habit I wouldn't mind making..._

"Did you miss me?" she asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"The question is," he said. "When do I not miss you, Clara Oswald?" She flashed her teeth at him as she released him from her grip, sliding her fingers across the edge of the console.

"Actually, never mind my request," she said. She turned around to his eyebrows furrowed and his face in a pout.

"You've changed your mind? Do you really want to stay at ho- your flat again?" he sounded a bit disappointed.

She shook her head. "I have a different request, actually."

"And what is that?" he asked.

"Show me the path between the stars," she said, her tone mellow and voice smooth.

"Is that all? You do realize-" he didn't get a chance to finish his sentence.

"The stars that you told me I was made of last night," She mentally rolled her eyes but kept her voice steady. "Show me the path between them."

"That is quite a simple request. All I have to do is-"

She pressed her fingers to his lips as she shook her head again. "_Show_ me the path," she said, tracing her finger down his neck to chest. "Daft old man."


End file.
